Psychoanalysis
by ZiggyGurl
Summary: Vincent's brooding tendencies earn him a first class ticket to a psychiatrist. Oddly enough, Angel's whining lands him in the same position. Who has the most reason to brood? The man who spent 30 years in a coffin or the man who had an excuse to?


**Author's Note: **An Angel/FFVII crossover fic? Awesome. We own nothing. Just our superior brains.

"Begin wherever you wish, Vincent."

"It was more than thirty years ago. My hair was short. Most people couldn't pull it off without looking like a woman. But my bone structure was excellent for it. I was a Turk, working for Shinra. I put in my hours killing and kidnapping, but the job also had other duties. I was one of the best; so when Shinra needed a bodyguard for the scientists of the top-secret Jenova project...I guess I was an obvious choice. One of the scientists was a lunatic - Dr. Hojo. Then there was Dr. Gast, a brilliant man who was good at what he did. Then there was their assistant, the beautiful Lucrecia Crescent. Her bone structure was even better than mine. Her hair was longer, though. Not very stylish. But I kind of liked the clueless way she wore it. She couldn't button her blouse right either, but I think that was what attracted me to her. I had enough fashion sense for the both of us. I joined the Turks not only because of my skill, but also because I looked excellent in navy."

"Vincent, that's all very interesting, but are you paying me 1000 gil an hour just to talk about the fashion sense of yesteryear?"

"No...I...I'm...sorry..." Vincent averted his eyes like a kicked puppy.

"That's OK, no objections here. Please continue."

"Well, Lucrecia was beautiful. The way she smiled...the way she laughed...the way she studied...the way she cried...the way she yelled at me in random, unexpected bitch fits..." the really old man (who looked pretty good for pushing 60) paused for a wistful sigh before continuing. "Everything she did was perfect. I wanted to keep her safe more than anything. Which, I admit, was wonderful since that's what I was getting paid to do. But...it was more than a job. I never wanted to leave her side. All I wanted to do was see her smiling face," Vincent looked down at his less stylish attire consisting of plenty of buckles and leather. Very Judas Priest.

The doctor scribbled something on her notepad that looked suspiciously like, "This patient will pay my salary for years to come. He has plenty of issues. I've hit a goldmine!!" before nodding sagely.

"Vincent, I think that's enough for today. Why don't you collect your thoughts and come back tomorrow, OK?"

"Yes...I should probably...go brood, anyway." With a swish of his cloak Vincent was gone.

**Later**

After her last patient swept out of the room the doctor quickly moved to put the chair back in place and straightened the engraved "Doctor Grant" name tag on her desk before her next patient arrived. It never hurt to keep the place nice.

The quick straightening was just in time.

The 1:00 patient had arrived.

Another tall, dark haired man entered her office. This one, unlike her last patient, wasn't unbelievably skinny and he smelled slightly of smoke. A long duster swirled around his body with each step. His entrance would have looked quite impressive if it didn't look like he really wanted to hide under the nearest desk.

"Ah, Mr..." Doctor Grant looked down to her note book, "Angel. How are you doing today?"

The only response she recived was a dagger filled glare. Oh if looks could kill…

"Please sit down and begin whenever you are ready. Tell me a little about your past." She nervously began the session. Figuring that small talk would get her nowhere with "Mr. Angel".

To Doctor Grant's surprise Angel responded, even if he didn't sound so pleased.

"I was born in Ireland in a time before decent hair gel was invented. Easily over two hundred years ago. My mother and father were stifling idiots and I could not stand them. My father never approved off my hair, womanizing or drinking. The bastard! And I had really nice hair back then…long and silky. I used to spend hours in front of the mirror…um, moving on. Kathy, dear Kathy, my younger sister…Why am I telling you this anyway? I should be brooding over my past sins! About all the World Wars that aren't my fault! I should be brooding over my first love, Buffy…"

At the name Buffy the doctor noticed the patient sort of lost track of where he was and just got plain depressed looking.

After a few minutes of stifling silence Dr. Grant politely pointed out that Angel was paying 100 an hour and that she was fine if he just wanted to sit in silence…

"100 DAMN DOLLARS AN HOUR?" Angel yelled, losing his temper (and his broodiness) and morphing into his vamp face, much to the surprise of the young doctor sitting across from him.

"DO YOU KNOW WHAT A 100 DOLLARS COULD PURCHASE WHEN I WAS YOUNG!?"

With that Dr. Grant's patient who only went by one name jumped out of his chair and fled the room with inhuman speed.

Leaving behind one stunned psychiatrist wondering what the hell she had gotten into with these new patients of hers. She would have some serious issues to approach in the future sessions.

**Reading and reviewing improves your lifespan and salary…it's a proven fact.**

**Author's Note: **This story is a collaborative effort between **kris932** and I. It began over pizza at Luigi's when I was rambling on about Vincent and his brooding and we had an epiphany...who broods as much as, if not more than, Vincent? Well, only our favorite vampire in the whole world! (OK, so that's an exaggeration.) They also seem to have so much in common. Girls…Fashion… I write for Vincent and she writes for Angel. For the rest of the fic we're going to post the Vincent and Angel chapters separately...probably. But we figured it'd be nice to introduce them both in one chapter. If you're interested in: Holes, The Outsiders, Harry Potter, Bones, Sky High or Pirates of the Caribbean you should check out our other stuff.


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